


of fingerprints and heartbeats

by toxica939



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-24 12:25:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18571456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toxica939/pseuds/toxica939
Summary: Except his skin is still singing, hot to touch and too sensitive. He runs his fingers over his chin, can still feel the scrape of Eliott's face against his own. He feels like he's been branded, like it must be written all over him: a man was here. A man's face, rough with morning stubble that he'd dragged down Lucas' neck, across his collarbones and belly and hips; sparked fire across Lucas' skin and lit him up.ORFrom first kisses to paint smears and beyond, five times Eliott left his mark on Lucas





	of fingerprints and heartbeats

**samedi 16h45**

He runs the shower too hot and doesn't get straight in. Finds himself standing at the sink while the mirror clouds over instead. It's easier somehow, to look at himself as a blur, he's trying not to examine that thought too much. He's still smarting from waking up alone, from the run in with Manon and Mika that's still making him feel like an idiot.

He scrubs his hands over his face and swears at himself. Play it cool Lucas, get it together.

Except his skin is still singing, hot to touch and too sensitive. He runs his fingers over his chin, can still feel the scrape of Eliott's face against his own. He feels like he's been branded, like it must be written all over him, _a man was here_. A man's face, rough with morning stubble that he'd dragged down Lucas' neck, across his collarbones and belly and hips, sparked fire across Lucas' skin and lit him up.

He'd never kissed a guy before, and he known, on an intellectual level, that it wouldn't be the same as kissing a girl. He'd known that Eliott was sharp edges and strong fingers, all teeth when he laughed. And he'd known he _wanted_.

He just hadn't expected everything else. Hadn't expected the gusty sighs, the soft skin stretched thin over delicate ribs; hadn't expected to be touched so gently, and _feel_ it.

He hadn't expected to feel like this at all. Like Eliott had prised him open and poured himself inside. Like nothing can ever be the same now.

Last night feels like a dream. Kissing in the fucking rain like it was some sort of romance novel, one Eliott had written and drawn him inside.

He can still feel the cold water sliding inside his collar, shivers with it.

The shower's still hot when he climbs in, steam clogging his lungs. He soaps up quickly, efficiently, like he's not going to lose time standing here remembering the rain and Eliott plastered up against him. They'd laughed into each other's mouths, giddy with it, and Lucas had thought _oh, this is what it's supposed to feel like_.

His stomach is squirming; happiness snaking around terror, and it was right, it was so right, but he has no idea what happens now. How is the Lucas he is now supposed to live yesterday's Lucas' life? How is he supposed to pretend everything hasn't changed now?

His back is stinging under the spray, sore between his shoulder blades where Eliott's chin had scuffed him up all morning. He'd laid there, shoulders screaming from too long on his belly, and hadn't even thought about moving even though it hurt. The weight of Eliott crushing him into the bed, Eliott's heart pounding at his back.

He watches the soap sluice off him in milky bubbles, slip away down the drain.

He wants to get kissed again.

:::

**samedi 1h15**

Eliott snuffles in his sleep. It's sort of weirdly endearing.

Lucas rolls over to stare at him, feet stretching out into a cool, untouched bit of the bed. He's sprawled out on his back, Eliott, still streaked with colour that all looks black in the darkness. They'd made a half hearted attempt to wash up when they stumbled home, but it had mostly been an exercise in touching each other all over again; miles of skin to learn.

There are fingerprints smudged across the back of Lucas' arm, and he picks at the flaking paint absently.

“Go to sleep,” Eliott whispers, eyes still closed. He pats a hand out across the bed until he finds Lucas' hip under the sheets and pats at that instead.

“I am asleep,” Lucas tells him. He smushes his face into the pillow. He can only see Eliott out of one eye now but he doesn't miss the way his face creases in a brief smile.

“Then your sleep talking is really impressive.”

“Thank you.”

Eliott's fingers curl and tug. “Come here.”

Lucas goes; fits himself under Eliott's arm, head on his shoulder, slings a leg across Eliott's just because he can. Because there's still a thrill in feeling the bare inside of his thigh slip across Eliott's equally naked one, even now, half dead from exhaustion.

Eliott runs warm, which is a nice surprise, hot in all the places they're pressed together. It makes it even more obvious that the shiver Lucas gives when Eliott's hand slides through his hair is from that and that alone.

Eliott presses a quick kiss against Lucas' forehead and the subsides, breathing evening out as he falls back to sleep.

Lucas cuddles closer, tries to make himself keep his eyes closed but it's a losing battle. He stares at the expanse of Eliott's chest instead, where it's rising and falling beneath his head.

He can still smell fresh paint.

Shit. What if he can never smell fresh paint again without remembering today? Eliott pushed up against the wall, painted like a rainbow, and panting. God, they hadn't even been kissing by the end, Eliott had tipped their foreheads tight together and made him look down, made him watch.

What if he can never smell paint again without getting hard?

He'd never felt anything like that before, like he couldn't get close enough, like the air was burning.

Lucas resists the urge to push his rising dick against Eliott's hip.

The hand in his hair clenches anyway and Eliott's voice, when he speaks, sounds like it's been dragged up out of him. “You know, I can actually hear you thinking.”

Lucas absolutely does _not_ go red. No one can see him anyway, so it doesn't count.

“Sorry.”

That gets him a laugh, Eliott's chest bouncing under his head, and then he's on his back, Eliott rolling them over, rising over him with his fists in the bed. “Don't apologise,” he says, and the rests gets lost in the space where their mouths meet, Eliott's belly coming down to press at Lucas', make him take his weight every time he breathes.

It's a long time before Eliott falls back to sleep, and Lucas goes back to watching, tries not to think about why his heart pounds every time he tries to close his eyes.

:::

**mardi 17h33**

“Tell me what the other Lucases are doing right now.”

This Lucas has got his eyes closed against the afternoon sun, blinding pink behind his eyelids, and he shuffles a little, forcing an oof out of Eliott where his head is pillowed on Eliott's lap. It does make Eliott lean over him though so he's counting the shade as a win.

“One of them's probably drinking that drink you never delivered.”

He'd been lured to the park with the promise of beer that never materialised; just Eliott and his sketch book and too much sun. It's making Lucas feel sleepy.

Eliott laughs. “Lucky him.”

“Mmmm. One of them's getting a head massage,” Lucas tries, which gets him an all too brief slide of Eliott's hands through his hair. “I don't know about the rest of them. Maybe they're miserable.”

“Why would they be miserable?”

He shrugs. “Maybe they're not with you.” He can get away with saying things like that when his eyes are closed.

Eliott's voice sounds like smiling. “You think there are Lucas' out there with no Eliott?”

“It's infinity, there must be.”

A hands settles over Lucas' heart, where it's thumping slow and steady behind his ribs. “I don't think so.”

Lucas opens his eyes. “No?” Eliott's looking down at him, body curled around him to block out the light. Lucas can pretend they're the only people in the world when they're like this, like there isn't a game of football going on just over there, no baby crying down by the water. It's nice.

So is the way Eliott's looking at him, lip caught up between his teeth and eyes warmer than the sun. They should be illegal, the eyes on him, should come with a health warning.

Eliott's head shakes minutely. “I don't think the other Eliotts would go for that.”

Lucas grins at him, brings a hand up to ruffle at the mess of Eliott's hair. “Maybe,” he allows. It's not how infinity works, but he likes the idea.

Eliott sticks the pen in his spare hand between his teeth, suddenly, grabbing Lucas' arm and turning it over.

“What are you doing?” Lucas asks.

Eliott ignores him, setting his pen to Lucas' skin, just inside his elbow where the skin is starkly pale against the ink he's putting there and it tickles in a vague sort of way.

Lucas closes his eyes again. He likes watching Eliott draw, likes the concentration, the way his tongue moves between his teeth, the way his eyes flicker and flash. But he's had a long day, and he's warm and comfy, so he lets himself drift instead.

“There,” Eliott says after a while, fingers soft on Lucas' skin. “I fixed it.”

Lucas blinks back to awareness to look at his own arm. There's a little racoon sitting there, holding the string of a heart shaped balloon. _Eliott #4367 is always with you_.

Lucas lets out an amused breath to cover the tender swell in his chest. Eliott makes him feel like a bruise sometimes, waiting to be pressed on.

“You like it?” Eliott asks, and his smile is tentative, where it shouldn't ever be.

Lucas nods, gets a hand around the back of Eliott's head to drag him down for a kiss, one that goes on too long and too wet for how exposed they are.

“He's cute,” Lucas tell him, brushing their noses together. “So are you.”

Eliott's smile, when he leans back now, is sweetly pleased, and he's pink at the high points of his cheeks.

Lucas keeps the little fella hidden under his sleeve for a week, doesn't even try to wash him off.

:::

**dimache 10h31**

Eliott tastes like toothpaste, bright and minty where his tongue is sliding against Lucas'. Lucas gets his hands up in Eliott's hair, has to fight the grip Eliott has on his face to tilt his head and put Eliott exactly where he wants him. He could kiss him like this for hours, kitchen counter digging into his back and lips gone hot and numb.

“Breakfast's going to burn,” Eliott mumbles, twisting his head away to look at the stove.

Lucas pulls him back, fits their mouths back together for another one of those long, sucking kisses that makes the world drop away. He doesn't say that it's no great loss if breakfast ends up in the bin, Eliott is a terrible cook, but he thinks it loudly.

He can feel the moment Eliott gives in. His body slumps into Lucas', hands clenching tight on Lucas' hips, and his mouth opens wider, slicking their tongues together into a gentle rhythm until toothpaste gives way to the inside of Lucas' own mouth and his kisses taste like nothing but them.

Eliott's handsy in the morning. Always really, but especially when he's just woken up and he's letting Lucas rumple him where he's already rumpled from bed. Lucas doesn't know if he'll ever get used to this; standing in his own kitchen, with his own boyfriend, in his underwear and a borrowed t shirt, getting his mouth licked open up against the cereal cupboard.

Eliott's hands slip down, over Lucas' arse to grip the backs of his thighs, and then the world does drop away, because he's heaving Lucas up onto the counter, muscling his way between his thighs to press them as closely together as possible.

Lucas lets himself gasp for breath, head gone loose on his shoulders when Eliott goes for his neck; teeth and tongue and the wet seal of Eliott's mouth soothing the burn of his morning stubble. There's a stain on the ceiling that he shuts his eyes against, focuses instead on the bony press of Eliott's hips against the insides of his thighs, on squeezing him tight and twisting his fingers in Eliott's t shirt.

His heartbeat feels like it's dropped to his dick, where it's throbbing against the firm rub of Eliott's belly.

“We can't do this here,” Lucas says, breathy, even while he's grappling his way down Eliott's body to fill his palms with that fucking beautiful arse. God, he could write sonnets about Eliott's arse.

Eliott's teeth sink sharp and stinging into the side Lucas' neck, just once, before he pops up in Lucas' face again. “Stop me then,” he says, mouth red and wide and grinning.

Lucas kisses him again instead, can't help himself. He's never been able to help himself when it comes to Eliott, has all but given up trying.

There's a cough, which barely registers, and then Mika's voice, bright and amused. “You should start charging admission for this,” he says. “Also your eggs are ruined.”

Eliott, because he has no shame, buries his face back in Lucas' neck and shakes with laughter. Lucas, who is a normal human, quietly wishes he was dead.

Mika's grinning at him from the far side of the kitchen, chin in his hand like he's been there a while.

Lucas gives himself four breaths to pretend he has a hope of getting out of this with his dignity in tact, and then settles for accepting that he going to have to stay exactly where he is until his hard on subsides.

Eliott moves away to rescue the eggs and Lucas gapes at him, betrayed, exposed to mockery without his human shield.

“Good morning,” Mika says, and he's still got that look on his face so Lucas glares at him. “Some of us are having better mornings than others, of course.”

“It sounded like your night didn't go too badly,” Eliott points out, prodding sadly at the contents of his pan.

Lucas has a brief, horrifying flashback to hearing Mika fucking some guy hard enough to rattle the walls. It's enough to cool him down at least but he stay put just to be safe.

Mika gives a gracious bow. “If you ever need any tips-”

“He doesn't need any tips,” Lucas interjects. He doesn't want anyone getting any ideas about that.

Mika eyes him thoughtfully, before reaching out to jab two fingers into Lucas' neck. “Maybe not. He's done a real number on your neck there, little one.”

Lucas doesn't clap his hands over whatever mess of bruising Eliott has left on him, but it's a near thing.

The eggs are beyond saving, thank god, so Mika takes it upon himself to make breakfast for them all.

“You look happy,” Mika tells him, quietly, while Eliott's on coffee duty, and Lucas lets himself nod, doesn't even shrug off the arm Mika squeezes around his shoulders.

He is.

:::

**vendredi 22h40**

It's fucking freezing, that chill in the air that says Christmas is coming, breath fogging in milky clouds to float away on the breeze.

“What are we doing?” Lucas asks, for the hundredth time, even though he knows Eliott's not going to tell him. “I can't see where I'm walking.”

Eliott had taken his phone as soon as they slipped through the gate and it's not like Lucas isn't used to following Eliott's lead at this point, it's been years, but the little yellow beam of Eliott's flash light isn't enough to see by like this.

Eliott's hand slips into his, an anchor in the dark, and tugs him along.

Lucas has a love hate relationship with Eliott's bridge. It's somewhere they've often come together, somewhere they've kissed and laughed and talked all night, but it's also the place Eliott goes to hide, and Lucas has had to come and find him out here one time too often to keep his heart rate steady when Eliott drags him off in the middle of the night.

They'd been out for dinner, Eliott flushed from red wine and shifty around the edges, enough that Lucas feels out of sorts, like he's missing something.

They pause in the dark, air still and cold around them.

“Still not scared of the dark?” Eliott asks him, mouth against his ear.

Lucas rolls his eyes. “Still not.”

Eliott hmms, wondering, and flicks the light off, because of course he does. Lucas keeps hold of his hand. He's not scared, not with Eliott here. And he isn't scared of Eliott, no matter what he might think.

Eliott wraps his arms around him, gives him a kiss that's just left of centre.

“I love you,” Eliott tells him, that midnight voice, that one that trails over Lucas' skin in the dark, lights fires.

“I love you too,” Lucas says, because he does, with all the air in his chest. “Turn the light back on.”

Eliott laughs. “In a minute.”

They kiss in the dark instead.

Lucas startles when Eliott slips away, reaching for him. “Eliott,” he says, louder than he means to. He knows Eliott hasn't gone far, can feel the air around him move while the fine hairs on his body rise. “Eliott come back.”

There's a shuffling, quiet under the beat of Lucas' heart, and then the light flicks back on.

Eliott's on one knee, lit yellow and black in pools and hollows. There's a ring in his hand.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm perfectshadeof over on tumblr if you want to say hi


End file.
